


atemporal

by meghanisadweeb



Series: Angsty Jamilton With SAT Word Titles [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: (not incest), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lawyer!Alexander Hamilton, M/M, Nail Tech!Thomas Jefferson, Parenthood, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, Trans Alexander Hamilton, Vaguely Asexual Thomas Jefferson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-02-08 13:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12865263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meghanisadweeb/pseuds/meghanisadweeb
Summary: a·tem·po·ral[āˈtemp(ə)rəl]ADJECTIVEexisting or considered without relation to time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are. I'm certainly not Thomas Jefferson, but I've included women (little girls, really) in the sequel. (Work!).

    This dream is one that he’s had a few times before. It’s less of a dream and more of a flashback, actually. His first time with someone other than Jane. He remembers it vividly, and every single time he has this dream it sends him into a very, very bad place. 

 

_ Hands. Hands everywhere, touching and grabbing and ripping off clothes and you're shouting at them to stop but they aren't listening. They don't have to listen. They're all stronger, and much, much bigger. They're just laughing at you and touching you more, touching you in places you aren't even supposed to touch yourself. And Mama is watching and you're yelling at her, yelling at her to make them stop it but she just smiles and touches herself.  _

 

__ Thomas sits up quickly with a shout. He’s hyperventilating, he’s lucid enough to know that much. He’s going to have a fucking panic attack if he doesn’t cut this off right now. If he doesn’t get his husband to help him. He pokes the man beside him and Alexander makes a noise in his sleep. In a few minutes he's awake, too, running his hand up and down Thomas's back. 

 

    “Just a… just a nightmare. That's all.” He whispers, shaking his head a little. 

 

    “Was it the same one?”

 

    Thomas can’t say any more, he’s so terrified. He does manage a small nod and a quiet whimper, though. Jane isn’t around to hurt him. Peter can’t let other people hurt him. But for some reason, in the moment, the concept of the present and reality is lost on him.

 

    “Did you tell Amelie that they're starting to come back?”

 

    Thomas sees the glint of Alex's wedding ring, even in the faint moonlight, and immediately relaxes. He’s safe. He’s home. And Alex is going to protect him and keep him alright no matter what happens between them. They’re going to be okay. “I will during my next session, okay? It’s on Wednesday. Promise. I love you so much, Alexander Jefferson-Hamilton.” He doesn’t want to talk about this any more. This is the fifth time he’s woken Alex up this  _ week _ , and it’s absolutely crushing him to know he’s hurting the love of his life like that. 

 

    “I love you too, Thomas Jefferson-Hamilton.”

 

    As if on cue, crying comes from the twins’ bedroom. They both roll out of bed somewhat begrudgingly. Alex glances over to the alarm clock and shrugs. 

 

    “Hey, 6:30. They're getting closer to sleeping through the night.” The shorter man shrugged, taking Thomas's hand and together they went. Thomas doesn’t think about the fact that he, too, is getting closer to being able to sleep through the night.

 

    Rachel has the redder face, so she probably started first, but Hope wasn’t too far behind. Hope is (as per usual) hungry, so Thomas works on a bottle while Alex changes Rachel. It’s almost scary how quick the two of them have adjusted to fatherhood, working in tandem like they can read each other’s minds. 

 

    “ _ Dodo, l’enfant do, l’enfant dormira bien vite, dodo, l’enfant do, l’enfant dormira bientôt. Une poule blanche, est là dans la grange, qui va faire un petit coco, pour l’enfant qui va fair’ dodo, dodo, l’enfant do, l’enfant dormira bien vite, dodo, l’enfant do, l’enfant dormira bientôt. Tout le monde est sage, dans le voisinage, il est l’heure d’aller dormir, le sommeil va bientôt venir _ .” Thomas’s voice is soft but sure as he sings down at Hope while she drinks her bottle. Jane used to sing him to sleep with it, and he’s decided that that song isn’t for her. It’s for him and his children. His two perfect little angels with their curls and their soft brown eyes. 

 

    “You have such a pretty singing voice.” Alexander hums, taking his and Rachel’s place in the twin rocking chair next to his husband and other daughter. 

 

    Thomas just shrugs, though he can’t keep the smile off of his face. He’s a good father. He takes his medicine, goes to his therapist, takes night classes, and he loves his family. This is how fatherhood should be, he’s come to realize. It’s not about spankings or schedules or control or manipulation, it’s about love and care and being there for your children. He pets Hope’s head gently with one finger while he thinks about it, smiling down at her. 

 

    “You’re so good with them, T.”

 

    “I have to be. This whole parenting thing really is a two-person job.” He snorts, shaking his head a little.

 

    “My happy little house-husband. Sammy Homemaker. Thomas Crocker. You do the cooking and the cleaning and the diaper changing and I come home from classes at the end of the day and get my brains fucked out by you.” Alex giggles softly, staring to rock himself and Rachel in the chair. 

 

    “The girls are going to start to catch up on your filthy mouth if you aren’t careful.” Thomas mock-scolds, never taking his eyes off of his beautiful daughter. She and Rachel will never know who their grandparents on the Jefferson side are, he’ll make certain of that. He’s going to protect the two of them from all of that. Keep them safe. 

 

    “Yeah, well, they’ll have to get over it.” 

 

    Eventually Hope finishes her bottle and Rachel is deep in sleep, and the two of them are laying in their crib. Thomas has to take a step back for a moment to admire his perfect family, because for a second there, it was almost hard to believe that this isn’t all a dream cooked up by one of Peter’s special bed-time concoctions. 

 

    ---

 

    “Pick a color, sweetheart.” Thomas pushes the case of nail polish towards his husband, smirking a little bit. Alexander huffs and leans back further in his chair.

 

    “Why did I agree to let you use me as a test dummy for your nail shit? Seriously, this is confusing me.” He does, actually, take a bottle of a color could only be described a deep greenish turquoise and practically throw it at Thomas. 

 

    “Because you love me and you want me to succeed? But mostly because I promised you that I would eat you out after we’re done.” The taller man grins triumphantly and plugs in his UV light. 

 

    It doesn’t end up being anything fancy, just a silver and green half-regular half-gel manicure, but it looks super nice with Alex’s coloring. And he’s a Slytherin, so it gets bonus points. 

 

    “Color me impressed, T. And, now that you’re done… How about you go down on me… Now? Maybe? Come on, I’m dyin’. And you’re so good with your tongue. Pretty please?” 

 

    Thomas smirks, drags Alexander to the bedroom, and has their clothes pulled off before they even have the door shut behind them. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation and a revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably going to stop all the pre-chapter warnings. Just be careful about the tags, y'all. You should know what you're signing up for by now.

     “Afternoon, son.” Peter smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Thomas forces himself to not look disgusted by the other man’s presence and sits across from him. “How are my grandkids? How’s your wife?” Thomas flinches at the word ‘wife’ and sneers a little bit. He hates these visits. He hates them with every atom of every cell of his body. 

 

     “Alexander isn’t my wife. He’s my husband. He’s legally recognized as a man, and his legal name is Alexander, and you will refer to him as such. Not that he would be any less of a man, even if a judge hadn’t decided that he was. And Hope and Rachel are just fine. I brought you pictures.” He says through gritted teeth, sliding a couple of wallet-sized photographs of the girls towards his father. 

 

     “It’s a real shame that neither of them were boys. Who’s going to carry on the name?” Peter almost sounds sad about it as he looks through them. 

 

     “No, it’s not. My two daughters are absolutely perfect. Nobody’s going to carry on the name, because they don’t even  _ have _ the name to carry on in the first place! We’ve been over this: my children are Rachel Mary Jefferson-Hamilton and Hope Martha Jefferson-Hamilton. How hard is that for you to understand?” He balls up his fists by his sides. He’s more or less ready to jump over the table at a moment’s notice. 

 

     “Your children are going to end up broken whores, just like their pathetic father.” Peter snarls, his voice dangerously quiet. How many times has he heard that tone before a spanking, or before having to do something humiliating or all-around terrible? Instead of scaring him, now it just makes him mad.

 

     “Better that than being like their disgusting  _ rapist _ ‘grandfather’ that beat his son and pimped him out for some easy cash!” 

 

    He leaves without another word, beyond fuming at that point. He did collect the pictures of his sweet little angels on his way out, though, and holds them close to his chest. He has the most perfect family in the whole world. 

 

     Thomas forces himself to take deep breaths, unclenching and clenching his fists as he leans against the seat of his car. He has to run to Walmart and pick up Dawn dish soap because they’re out. He needs to get formula, one can of sensitive for Hope and one can of regular for Rachel. And more diapers. Shit, they go through diapers and wipes like crazy between the two little ones. 

 

     He ends up a sobbing wreck, curled up there in the driver’s seat of his car. God, he just wishes that this all could end. The problem is that he just feels… obligated to see Peter. The man is his father, no matter how terrible he is. His stomach churns just thinking about what he had to endure to survive in that house, but at the same time, Peter and Jane Jefferson are the people that created him. They gave him life and saw him through most of it. But they aren’t his parents. Mary and John Wayles are his parents. They’re the ones that love him, they’re going to be ‘grandma’ and ‘grandpa’ to the twins one day. 

 

    He manages to stop crying, dry his eyes, start the car, take a quick trip to Dollar General, and drive to his and Alex’s off-campus apartment building, plastering on a smile when he steps in their door. He starts cleaning before he really even has his shoes off. Holy shit, is his husband messy. There are six dirty diapers dotting the counters in the kitchen. He’s only been gone for two hours, and he’s not entirely sure how that many got used. 

 

     “I’m home, sweetheart! I bought stuff!” He calls out once the kitchen is mostly in order, finding Alex snoozing in the bedroom with a daughter on either half of his abdomen. Seeing no reason not to, he peels off his socks and curls up next to them. So long as he has his family to come home to at the end of the day, he’ll be fine. 

 

     ---

 

     “What do you  _ mean _ his record got expunged? He hasn’t been in prison for a whole year yet! He was supposed to serve out a life sentence, not just a few months! You’re telling me that human trafficking, 82 counts of being an accessory to rape, assault, attempted murder, child abuse, and neglect only carry a sentence of eleven months. Who’d have thought it?!” Alex is shouting. Thomas knows that he shouldn’t be eavesdropping on his conversation, but he can’t help it. He’s being really loud, and the younger man knows for a fact that he’s talking about Peter.

 

     Peter can’t find him. No, someone has to make sure that Peter doesn’t find him or the Wayleses or the girls. This is bad, this is so so bad. He’s putting himself and his family in danger because he couldn’t just keep his goddamn mouth shut.

 

     “This is fucking corruption at its finest. Judge Simcoe is coming off that fucking bench, and George is going to make sure of that. Fucking rich pricks that think that they’re above the law are all going to have precedent now. Does he realize that? Does anyone fucking realize that? This is bullshit. I’m hanging up now.” Thomas hears a loud sigh after the yelling stops, and he almost just wants to go to sleep and forget about everything. And then when he wakes up, the girls will be happy, Alexander will be happy, and Peter will still be in prison. But of course, this can’t be fantasy-land where things go his way. Things never, ever go his way. 

 

     So, instead of doing all that, he makes sure that the girls are well-fed and changed and happy. He has some coursework to do and he can’t let school suffer. He’s going to be fine. Peter doesn’t know shit. He doesn’t know where Thomas and Alexander are, and he can’t hurt them anymore. They’re going to be fine. 

 

     Probably. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me how shit this was in the comments :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff and then it all comes crashing down.

    “And how are my two favorite granddaughters, my favorite Thomas, and my favorite son-in-law?!” John grins, leaning down to peer into the twins’ stroller. 

 

    “Hey, Dad.” Thomas reaches out and wraps his arms around the man. He receives an equally enthusiastic hug and a whispered ‘I love you, son’. Alexander just shakes his hand and smiles. John and Mary are, legally speaking, his parents. After Peter had been thrown in prison, he had to give up parental rights. And shortly after that Thomas had turned eighteen, and he no longer had to have anyone else’s consent, he was adopted by the couple but kept his name. It would have been too much of a hassle to change it twice. 

 

    “If that awful man so much as thinks about laying a hand on you, Alexander, or the girls, I’ll kill him myself. I swear to god, you just have to call me at literally any time of day and I’ll fucking murder him. They should have given him the death penalty, not a slap on the wrist.” John’s voice is hardly above a growl, and Thomas can only nod. Peter’s an awful guy and everything, he’ll concede that, but Thomas doesn’t know that he deserves death. He isn’t going to start an argument either way, so he just goes along with whatever the older man says.

 

     “The babies! The babies are here! Oh, Thomas, can I pretty please hold the babies?” Annie is sprinting into the room like her life depends on it before he even really knows what’s happening. 

 

     “The babies are still very, very tiny, but if you get Dad or somebody else to help you and promise that you’ll be real careful, I don’t see why you couldn’t.” Thomas smiles down at her, getting on one knee so they’re at eye level.

 

     “Don’t tell Logan, but I think you’re my most favorite brother. Even if you haven’t always been my brother like he has. I have the bestest new older brother in the whole wide world.” Annie giggles softly, like she isn’t saying something that’s making Thomas feel like he’s practically glowing. Annie thinks of him as her brother. He might fucking cry. 

 

     After a second Thomas has Rachel settled in her arms while Annie sits right beside John. The man has one hand underneath the baby while Annie looks down at her like she’s the most amazing thing in the whole world. 

 

     “Daddy, Daddy, it’s my baby Rachel! Isn’t she so pretty?” Her attention is only on her father for a few seconds before she starts talking to the baby again. “You and me and Hope are gonna be best friends, okay? I’m gonna help you with your homework when you start in school ‘cause Daddy says I’m real smart, and I’m gonna help Alex and Thomas with you while you’re still gettin’ bigger.” Her eyes are blown wide and her voice is soft. 

 

     “Are those my beautiful little grandbabies? Any my favorite youngest son and son-in-law?!” Mary squeals, running into the room. She has a flour-covered apron tied around her waist and her hair is an absolute mess, but she couldn’t look happier. 

 

     “Hey, Mary.” Alex smiles a little, shuffling forward and allowing himself to be hugged. He’s not especially touchy-feely, but he knows just as well as Thomas that Mary won’t let them off without a hug.

 

     “Awh, the girls are getting so big! Let me see our gorgeous little Hopie!” Mary squeals, reaching down into the stroller and pulling her out. She fusses over her for a second and Annie peers up.

 

     “Lexi, you and Thomas made very, very cute babies.” Annie says matter-of-factly, looking up at Alexander with a solemn expression.

 

     “Why, thank you! You know what? You’re a very, very good auntie to them, and I’m sure that you’ll all be the best of friends, just like you said.” Alex kneels down next to her, smiling softly. 

 

     Thomas’s heart glows at the sight of his family, minus most of his siblings, all in the same room and happy. It almost distracts him from thoughts of Peter.

 

     Almost.

 

     ---

 

     Thomas receives a call from an unknown number on his way home after class. Being the fucking idiot he never failed to be, he answered it.   
  


     “Who is this?” He asks cautiously, trying to pronounce a raised eyebrow. 

 

     “I thought that you would have been expecting this call by now, Tommy. I know that, strictly speaking, I’m not supposed to be contacting you, but I couldn’t help it! You’re my son and I want to see you!” 

 

     The voice. The drawl. That  _ fucking  _ pet name. He knows who this is. 

 

     “Peter. For your information, you’re not legally my father anymore. John and Mary Wayles are my father and my mother, and you’re nothing but the piece of shit that let me be molested by a hundred strangers, family members, and my own fucking mother.” Thomas’s voice is low and dangerous. He hears a scoff from Peter’s end of the line, and it makes his blood absolutely boil.

 

     “Ah-ah. You’d better watch your tone now, dear, or else those beautiful daughters of yours might not stay so beautiful. My sweet, uncorrupted granddaughters, little Hopie and little Elle. That’s what you call them, right? They’re nice names, all things considered. Honestly, you couldn’t have picked a worse wife for yourself. She’s from an awful family. Disgraced father, whore for a mother… Well, whores  _ do _ seem to follow her around, don’t they?” Peter hums nonchalantly. 

 

     There’s no way that he should know all of that. Alex’s life before coming to America was something that he kept tightly under wraps. “Don’t talk about my family like that, or else-” Or else what? He doesn’t know where Peter is. He couldn’t fight the man, either verbally or physically. 

 

     “Oh, but Tommy, I  _ am _ your family! I’m the only person that really, truly loves you. The only person that understands you. And one of these days we’ll be together again, I promise you that. Whether you want it or not.” 

 

     The line goes dead and Thomas is left to cry in his car for the second time in the same number of weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this is hella late, and it's a little subpar, but I wanted to get something out. 
> 
> I'm currently looking for a beta. If that's something that you'd want to do, or you just want to hit me up, message me on tumblr! @adreamoftinysideshows
> 
> And don't forget to comment. I need me the comments.


	4. Chapter 4

_ Bang _

 

_      Bang _

 

_      Bang _

 

     Thomas has gone completely numb. He’s never been put to sleep for a surgery or anything similar, but he imagines that this is what it would feel like. His limbs are heavy and he feels  _ nothing _ . Like warm water has risen up and wrapped him in absolute nothingness. He knows, consciously, what happened. 

 

     One second he’d been cornered by Peter in his own apartment, with the twins snoozing the day away in their crib next door, and the next thing he knew, the smell of gunpowder filled the air and suddenly Peter wasn’t standing anymore. He was lying on the ground, Hope and Rachel were screaming, the room was full, and Thomas was surrounded by police.

 

     “Sir? Sir, I need you to listen to me. Did he hurt you, or anyone else?” A cop asks as they sit outside, as though this is a normal conversation and a man isn’t lying dead on the floor just a few stories above them. 

 

     “He punched my husband, and then I think Alex ran into the nursery to make sure our daughters-” Thomas pauses, eyes going wide. “My daughters. Are my daughters okay? I have to make sure that they’re okay, I have to see them-”

 

     “Your children are fine and they’re with their other father. Now, I need you to continue on with the story. Alexander ran into the nursery, and then…?” 

 

     Thomas takes a deep breath and looks down. “And then I walked in. And I saw him, and I just didn’t know what to do. I was so scared that he hurt my family, so I just sort of… I sort of offered myself to him? It’s what he drilled into me, that I had to submit to whatever he wanted. Everything’s sort of fuzzy after that, but I think that maybe I heard Alex talking to someone on the phone. Calling you, I guess?” He doesn’t  _ care _ about the police, he just wants to see his husband and his little girls. He wants to kiss Alex and snuggle with Rachel and Hope and make sure that they’re alright.

 

     “That would be correct, sir. I’m going to go see if I can get your husband, but in the meantime, can I get you anything? A water, or crackers, or…?” The officer wraps the stupid fucking blanket a little tighter around Thomas’s shoulders and he almost wants to laugh. His home has been broken into. Sure, the man that hurt him is dead, but he’ll never be able to forget him bleeding out on the floor. 

 

     “I’ll be fine. I just really, really want to see Alex, Hope, and Rachel. Please?” He doesn’t say any of that, just smiles up at the officer. 

 

     ---

 

     “Mr. Jefferson-Hamilton? Can I have a word with you?” A smartly-dressed man smiles when Thomas opens up the door. He raises an eyebrow, and the man just shakes his head. “Relax, sir. I’m here to discuss matters relating to your father’s will.” Thomas sighs and steps aside, letting him into the apartment. 

 

     “I’m sorry, I’ve just been a little,” he pauses to find the right word, looking around nervously, “jumpy, since Peter… y’know. So, what’s all of this about? I figured that he wrote me out of everything. Didn’t want a faggot for a son or whatever.”

 

     “Quite the opposite, actually. He never had his last nullified. Whether that was an oversight or his lawyer was a total idiot, I have no idea. Regardless, you’re the main beneficiary, and you’re entitled to almost everything. Jefferson Industries, almost all of your father’s monetary and proprietary assets, and his estate. After taxes, you’ve inherited a total of 27,431,623,920 dollars. And 38 cents. Of course, that doesn’t include property or the value of the company. I just need you to sign this, so that you can undertake the responsibilities of the estate. The funds themselves should be transferred fairly soon, and then there’ll be more paperwork, of course.” 

 

     “What the  _ fuck _ .” 

 

     “Pardon me, sir?”

 

     “You just fucking told me that I’m the 34th richest man in the world. I think that ‘what the fuck’ is an appropriate reaction. I’m nineteen! I can’t even drink yet and I already have all this fucking money!” He scribbles his signature on the paper with a slight sneer. “What the fuck do I even  _ do _ with all of this?!” 

 

     “Well, you could always put some of it into a trust for your children. You could move somewhere nicer, or you could-” The man, who Thomas still doesn’t know the name of, picks up the papers and shoves them into his briefcase somewhat hastily. “Well, I have other meetings to attend to at the moment. If you have any other questions, you can call me at this number.” 

 

      “Okay, I will…” Thomas takes the offered card with a small frown, shuffling where he stands. “Thank you, sir.” He practically whispers, guiding the man, apparently named ‘ Albert D. J. Cashier’, towards the door. Men in suits always want something from him, and that’s something that he’s not prepared to give. 

 

      “You’re quite… Well, if there’s anything else that you need, anything at all, you just let me know.” He tilts his head, leaving the apartment without another word. Thomas sighs softly, going back to the couch. What is he even supposed to do? Is he supposed to just pretend like he isn’t ridiculously wealthy and that he couldn’t afford seven fucking private islands? Is he supposed to call Alexander?

 

      What he does know is that there’s no way he’s keeping his father’s company. No way in hell. He’ll let the Board of Directors take care of picking a replacement or just selling. Fuck, the Board of Directors. Most of them have seen photographs of him naked, and if they haven’t, it’s because they saw him in person. It’s fucked, but it’s true. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some big stuff happened in this chapter, eh? 
> 
> What do you think Thomas is gonna do with his newly accumulated wealth? I sure as hell know exactly what's going to happen to it, but what do y'all think?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation and Alex is horny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said that I was gonna nix the warnings, but there's a non-explicit sex scene in this one and some *very* dubious consent.

     Silence hangs heavy around the two of them, like a fleece blanket over your face when you have a fever.  _ Silence really can be deafening _ , Thomas thinks. Finally Alexander does speak up, but his voice is more quiet than Thomas has ever known it to be. 

 

     “I- I know that you have money. That’s something that I’ve always known, and it’s something that I’ve always just accepted, whether it was your trust fund or your inheritance or whatever. But I just can’t help but think- Money changes people in all kinds of ways, and I’m just not sure if… This could be a very, very good thing or a very, very bad thing.” 

 

     Thomas sighs softly. That really isn’t the answer that he’s been wanting, but it was the one that he’s been expecting. Something sort of vague like that. “I think that maybe I want to put some of it in a trust fund for the girls. But it’s a lot of money, and I’m not sure what I’m going to do with the rest of it. I need you to help me. Please. I just want you to tell me what to do.” It’s times like this that he almost misses Peter, in a sort of twisted way. He misses not having to make decisions for himself, the security of knowing he was taken care of and that he didn’t have to worry. 

 

     “I can’t tell you what to do with your money, love.” Alex bites his lip and almost looks like he’s going to say something else. He doesn’t. 

 

     “We’re married. It’s your money, too. I just want to know what you think that we should do about all of it. The property and the company, too. I know that I don’t want anything to do with Accueil. I can’t- It’s hard for me to even think about the fact that I own it.” Thomas bounces his leg nervously. He doesn’t want to keep the house where he was beaten and molested and made into nothing but a toy. That’s not exactly his idea of a good time. He can always sell it, but that’s just more money that he’ll have no idea what to do with. A  _ lot  _ more money that he’ll have no idea what to do with. 

 

     “Maybe we should move. I mean, a man  _ did  _ die here, no matter how much of a monster he was and how much he deserved it. And it’s sort of small, I mean… I kinda want my own office. And I know that my happy little house-husband  _ hates _ how tiny the kitchen is.” Alexander apparently wants to change the subject, because he moves closer and rests his head on Thomas’s shoulder. 

 

     “And we could upgrade some of the appliances and shit.” Thomas bites his lip, looking over at Alex. Honestly, he gets really fucking bored being at home with the girls all the time, but he isn’t about to tell his husband that. Cooking and baking breaks up some of the mundane-ness in his day, but that’s just about all he has other than class at night. But no matter how bored he is, he’s content with this. With what he gets, because he’s extremely lucky. He’s not going to complain and risk making Alex mad at him. He’s super nice, which Thomas doesn’t deserve, and it’s only a matter of time before Thomas fucks up somehow and needs to be disciplined for it. 

 

     He hums softly, nodding a little bit. “Sounds perfect, baby boy. This is going to be perfect, you just watch. Now, how about you let me ride that amazing cock of yours?” Alex leans up to kiss him, pushing Thomas down on the couch gently. “‘Cause thinking about you being all pretty and domestic for me is sorta certain parts of my body  _ very _ excited.” 

 

     Thomas doesn’t especially want to, but he doesn’t not want to, either. And if there’s something that his amazing, smart, funny, perfect Alexander wants… Well, he just  _ has _ to give it to him, or Alexander will go and find someone that will. He couldn’t live with himself if the other man left, so he had to make sure he was always happy. 

 

     “God, you’re so pretty. So unbelievably pretty for me. I love every single part of you.” Alexander is kissing up and down his neck, and Thomas forces a soft moan. He doesn’t want Alex to think that he has to stop just because Thomas isn’t sure about what he wants. Maybe he can make himself like this somehow. He doesn’t really like sex all that much. It’s fine, and it can feel good some of the time, and it makes Alex happy, but other than those things, he just doesn’t get it. He definitely likes the closeness of it, but he doesn’t really care for how hungrily his husband looks down at him. It almost reminds him of Jane in a way.

 

     How she used to just use him, hold him down and ride him until she was satisfied and didn’t especially care about if Thomas was enjoying himself or not. Alex is better in that regard, most of the time, in that he actually asks if he’s doing it right and listens when Thomas moans or whatever. It’s sounds so fucking stupid but it’s reflexive and he can’t stop it. 

 

     “I love you too, Lexi, I love you so fucking much.” Thomas whines softly, only to be silenced by Alex’s lips.

 

     “Shh, no need to talk. I just want to hear those gorgeous noises that you make. My gorgeous little TJ with his fat fucking cock.” Alexander swears loudly before kicking off his boxers and sinking down onto him. “God, you feel so good-  _ Shit _ !”

 

     Thomas doesn’t even realize that he’s crying until Alex is thumbing his tears away. His husband has pulled off, and is now kneeling next to the couch.

 

     “Are you okay, sweetheart? I wouldn’t have done anything if you just would have told me that you didn’t want me to. I promise. You just gotta tell me. I don’t know these things unless you tell me.” Alex says softly, pressing an equally soft kiss to Thomas’s cheek.

 

     “Maybe we should talk- Maybe we should talk about this a little later? I’m just tired and I sorta wanna take a nap.” Thomas can’t meet the shorter man’s eyes. He’s so fucking stupid. He can’t even keep his fucking mouth shut and just let himself be used like the cheap whore he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please comment, and as always, my Tumblr is @adreamoftinysideshows.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for some hecking angst.

     “What’s wrong? Did I do something, or…?” Alex bites his lip, looking extremely worried. Thomas sighs softly and leans back against the couch. 

 

     “It’s not that I don’t like having sex. Well… I don’t like it, but I don’t mind it. It’s alright, but I don’t especially care for it. But if it’s something that you really like, I can give it to you! You don’t have to go and find somebody else to do it, ‘cause I’ll never complain about it or anything as long as it makes you happy!” Thomas gets almost frantic at the end, frowning slightly. He doesn’t want Alex to leave him. He can’t let Alex leave him. 

 

     “Thomas. Baby boy, listen to me. You not wanting to have sex with me isn’t going to make me want to leave you. I’m not going to take advantage of you like that, you hear me? I would never do that to you. I love you. I love you for so much more than sex.” Alex says softly, rubbing circles on Thomas’s abdomen. “You make me so happy. Sex is good, and I like it a lot, but I don’t like it so much that I would leave the love of my life because I can’t get it from him.” 

 

     “You- You mean that? Really?” Thomas sits up, looking extremely hopeful. Alex doesn’t lie to him, but he can’t help but think that maybe he’ll go back on that promise unintentionally.

 

     “Of course I really mean it. I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.” Alexander kisses Thomas softly and takes the taller man’s hand. “I love you so much, and I don’t ever want to lose you.”

 

     “I love you too. Thank you. I love you so much, please don’t leave me.” Thomas whispers, eyes wide. He’s unbelievably lucky to have someone that loves him, or at least pretends to. 

 

     ---

 

     Thomas is doing Eliza’s nails for her when shit goes crazy. She’s good to practice on. She doesn’t bite them short like Peggy, or have ridiculously curved nails like Angelica. Eliza’s nails are long, relatively flat, and she keeps them in very, very good shape. They're just about perfect. But that's not the point. The point is that Thomas comes to a heart-stopping realization while doing Eliza's nails.

 

     “Liz, me and Alex haven't had sex in a full month.” Thomas says quietly, almost like he can't believe it himself. His partner is insatiable, but there hasn't been sexual contact of any kind in an entire month. A twelfth of the year.

 

     Eliza scrunches her nose up like she's thinking really hard about something. “That doesn't sound like the Alexander that I know.” She bites her lip and tilts her head, almost as though she's a mildly confused puppy. Alex and Eliza dated briefly during Sophomore year before deciding they were better as friends. Thomas knows that they had sex, and probably a lot of it. Eliza has got to know what she’s talking about.

 

     “I- I know. What do I do? I gotta- I gotta do something? What if he doesn't want me anymore? What if he thinks that I'm ugly or dirty and maybe I'm not trying hard enough or just- I have to be better for him.” Thomas isn't entirely sure when he started hyperventilating, but he definitely is. He can hear it and see his chest rapidly rising and falling. He can also see Eliza's deeply concerned expression.

 

     “I'm sure that that's not it. I think that you should talk to him. You're not ugly, Thomas, and you're certainly not dirty. Alexander loves you or he wouldn't have married you.” Eliza smiles softly and rubs Thomas's knuckles. “Anyone would be lucky to have you. I would date you myself if it weren't for Mari and the fact you're gay. You're sweet and you're funny and I'm positive that Alex is in love with you just as much as he was a month ago.”

 

     “Thanks. You always know how to make me feel better.” Thomas smiles weakly and bites his lip. “Now I want to finish those roses before I'm a grandfather, got it?” He somehow manages to force a laugh, which Eliza joins in on.

 

     ---

 

     “Alex, did I do something wrong? We haven’t had sex in a really, really long time and I just want to make sure that you’re not mad at me or anything. I don’t want you to be mad at me.” Thomas asks softly, biting his lip. When people are mad at him, he gets punished or somebody yells at him. He definitely doesn’t want Alexander to be mad at him. His husband looks up, almost confused, but then he seems to understand.

 

     “Baby… Baby. No, you didn’t do anything. You said that you don’t really like having sex, and I’m not going to have sex with you if you aren’t enjoying it all the way. That would be really, really fucked up of me.” Alexander smiles, pulling Thomas closer to him. “I don’t want to hurt you like that. I couldn’t ever bring myself to just take from you without giving anything in return.” He runs his hand through Thomas’s tightly wound curls and hums softly. 

 

     “I just thought that maybe- I don’t really know what I thought. But you know how it is. All my life it’s just been people that used me or touched me and Jane and-” Thomas takes a deep breath, trying to stop a panic attack before it really hits him.

 

     “I know, and I’m not mad at you. You’re so much more than what you have in your pants. I love you for what’s up here,” Alex taps Thomas’s temple softly, “and what’s in here,” and then in the center of his chest, “not for what you can do for me in the bedroom. And I wouldn’t ever leave you because you weren’t having sex with me. If you don’t like sex, then I don’t want to have sex with you. That’s it. That’s the end of the story.” 

 

     Thomas smiles and cuddles into Alex’s chest happily. He can’t wipe the grin off his face, even if he were to want to. His life is just too perfect for that. He has too much to be happy about. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for how long this took. But, as per usual, comment! Please!
> 
> My tumblr: @adreamoftinysideshows


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst.

     Thomas goes on for another few weeks without major incident, and then his entire world comes crashing down. It’s an ordinary day. He gets home from grocery shopping and taking the girls to his parents’, puts everything away, makes himself some microwave macaroni and cheese, and settles down on the couch. 

 

     And then he hears giggling coming from the direction of the master bedroom. He knows that laugh. He  _ married _ that laugh. But it can’t be Alex, because Alex is in class. He should be in class. Maybe he’s sick? But that doesn’t make sense, because Alex is an awful sick person. He would have called, he would be whining and bitching and moaning. Thomas swallows the lump in his throat and wipes his sweaty palms on his pants. 

 

     Before he really knows what he’s doing, he’s taking tentative steps towards the bedroom. The doorknob is cold in his hand, and he stares down at it. The cheap bronze paint is flaking from all the hands that have touched it, even excluding himself and Alexander. 

 

_ So many people have touched this doorknob. Hands, hands everywhere. Wrapped around it, using it like what it is. An object, designed to serve one singular purpose until it gets tossed into a landfill or melted into something newer or more useful. Nobody thinks about a doorknob like it has feelings, because it doesn’t. It just lives its life serving its purpose and never complains. If it malfunctions, it gets replaced. _

 

     Taking a deep breath that for some reason gets caught in his throat, he turns it and pushes the door open.

 

_ Alex. Alexander James Hamilton. And John Laurens.  _

 

     Alex’s wrists are tied to the headboard loosely with what looks like a scarf, and Laurens is on top of him, kissing him just like Thomas kisses him. Soft and slow, almost sweet. His heart just stops. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, how he’s supposed to react to any of this. He knew that it would only be a matter of time before Alexander wanted sex from somewhere, but he never thought that it would be so soon. 

 

     What’s even worse is that nobody notices that he’s standing there. Alexander doesn’t know that he knows. Laurens doesn’t know that he knows. They’re too busy kissing and loving each other in ways that Thomas  _ can’t _ love Alex, not without having a panic attack. He very carefully closes the door behind him and stumbles mindlessly to the girls’ room. This is where their children sleep. Where he and Alex have spent countless seconds, taking care of their own flesh and blood. 

 

     Thomas decides that he’s never going to bring this up with Alexander. Ever. No, that would just ruin everything for them. He’ll let Alex see Laurens and then his husband will love him and won’t need sex from him. They’ll be okay. Alex still loves him. He still plays with his hair and cuddles with him and one day he’s going to be a District Attorney and Thomas will be his trophy husband. He should just shut up and accept that he’s going to be confined to the house for the rest of his life, cooking and cleaning and taking care of the kids. 

 

     He’s sobbing, and he’s not entirely sure why. 

 

     ---

 

     “Hopie, come on, you gotta- Just work with me, okay sweetheart?” Thomas murmured, patting the screaming child gently on the back. Rachel was crying, too, though nearly not as hard. He had to prioritize, he couldn’t carry them both around and not run the risk of dropping one of them. “Please, please just stop crying. I don’t know why you’re so upset but you’re really scaring me and I know you want your Papa but he isn't here right now. Please.” 

 

     He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t soothe them right away, not like his Mom could or how Eliza could just sing a song and get them to be happier than a pair of clams at high tide. He laid Hope back down in the crib and held his head in his hands. He was such a failure. He was a bad husband and a bad father. 

 

_ Bad Tommy, bad Tommy, why do you always do this? You always disappoint everyone, Alex expects you to be better than this, you have to be better than this. _

 

     It might not soothe Hope or either of them, actually, but Rachel usually likes stories. He sits down in the rocking chair nearest to the crib and takes a deep breath. He had read all the books so many times he knew them by heart, and he just wanted a change. He was just going to have to make something up.

 

     “O- Once upon a time. There was a prince, right? And his name was Alexander. Prince Alexander was so handsome and smart and kind, everybody thought that he was just about the most perfect Prince to ever exist. Prince Alexander met a boy named Thomas once. Thomas was mad all of the time and was even mean to the Prince, because a mean man used to hurt him all the time. Prince Alexander showed Thomas that it wasn’t okay for the man to hurt him and helped Thomas be brave enough to get the mean man into trouble.” Thomas doesn’t know where this analogy is coming from, but it’s falling off his tongue effortlessly. He decides to continue with it.

 

     “And then Prince Alexander and Thomas had two very pretty Princesses. Thomas loved the Princesses with all of his heart, but he didn’t feel like he was good enough to be the Princess’s Daddy. He wasn’t very good at being a Daddy, because sometimes he felt like he was going to hurt the Princesses. He never wanted to hurt the Princesses, but because the mean man hurt him, he couldn’t help but think that maybe he would hurt somebody, too. Thomas was scared of himself.” His voice is a whisper, because he’s only ever really said this to Amelie. She would be proud of him. Maybe. He’s not entirely sure. 

 

     He doesn’t even realize that Hope and Rachel aren’t crying anymore until he hears soft snoring coming from the crib. He cries silently, there in that rocking chair. He’s so fucking stupid. He’s a stupid failure and when Alex walks out on him, it’s going to be all his fucking fault. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. Comment. I like comments. 
> 
> As usual, my tumblr is @adreamoftinysideshows.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reflection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stop right here and read this warning. 
> 
> There is a semi-explicit depiction of a minor being molested in this chapter, as well as underage drinking and mentions of underage drug use and alcoholism. If that wasn't enough, there's also talk of pretty serious bullying and some use (in a character's sort of flashback) of transphobic language. Nothing major plot-wise happens in this chapter, so it won't hurt you to skip it if you need to.

     Thomas has been mixing cocktails since was five. Jane used to drink constantly, though Peter never really did. He didn’t like how much it affected his sense of judgment. He thinks all of this over while he’s muddling mint leaves. He shouldn’t be doing this, but he is regardless. Alex would be disappointed. James would probably give him a lecture, and he can see Laf's face if he were here to see Thomas drinking his problems away. Martha… He couldn't even think about Martha.

 

     Thinking about Jane, though… It’s just making him sad. And mad, but mostly sad. He  _ trusted her. _ She was his _ mother _ , for fuck’s sakes, and she still thought that it was okay for her to touch him and use him like he was nothing but a toy. And then Peter  _ allowed  _ it,  _ encouraged  _ it, and facilitated it but literally whoring him out to family members and strangers and colleagues and anyone that was willing to pay for him. 

 

     He remembers his first time with Jane, and he remembers it vividly.

 

_ ‘Mama? I know that I shouldn’t be awake still, but Grammy got me that book and I just was readin’ it. Please don’t tell Papa.’ _

 

     She had come into his room far past his bedtime. He was stupid back then, even more stupid than he is now. The book had been something about dinosaurs, maybe about tyrannosaurus rexes? Or maybe some other species that he couldn’t have pronounced for the life of him. But that isn’t the point. Jane had sat on the edge of his bed and smiled down at him. She even set a Dixie cup full of water on his nightstand, which he’d drank without even thinking about the fact that maybe there was something else in it. 

 

_ ‘Shhh, my darling boy. I won’t tell Papa that you were up, I promise. You know that Mama loves you, right? I would do absolutely anything to make you happy. Can I show you something?’  _

 

     It only took a couple of minutes for whatever she gave him to kick in. It didn’t make him sleepy, but it had made his limbs heavy and put him in some kind of a haze. She laid down next to him, under the covers, and then her hand started to wander.

 

_ ‘Mama, that feels weird…  ‘n that water tasted funny ‘n now I feel funny… Mama, why are you touchin’ me down there? You said ‘at nobody was allowed to touch me down there ‘cept when I wash. Mama?’  _

 

_ ‘Tommy, I promise that this will feel good. You just have to relax and trust me, sweetheart.’ _

 

     He’d been so confused… Especially when he came. He’d stopped the protests at that point, and only complained when she brought her come-covered fingers to his lips. 

 

_ ‘Clean them off for me. Come on, open up…’ _

 

     He’d kept his mouth resolutely shut and shook his head. Maybe he should have screamed, looking back on it now. Maybe one of the maids would have heard him, or the butler, or  _ somebody _ . 

 

_  ‘Thomas Peter Jefferson, I’m not going to tell you again. Open up your mouth for me or else I’ll go and get Papa and tell him that you were bad.’ _

 

     That was what got him to give in, in the end. Thomas wipes away the tears that have suddenly appeared under his eyes and grimaces. He’s not a little girl, and he needs to stop crying like one.

 

     The burn of bourbon down his throat is almost familiar. He used to have to drink, on top of being drugged pretty much constantly. It almost made it better, if there is a way to make underage prostitution better. He sighs softly and downs the rest of the glass, whimpering softly. This isn’t about enjoying himself, this is about him numbing himself to the hurt in his heart. Mother of God, this is probably a bad decision, but that isn’t the point. The point is that he can’t deal with Alex sleeping with Laurens without a lot of alcohol. 

 

_ Trying to make this classy isn’t going to work _ , he realizes almost bitterly. He picks up the bottle and takes a drink straight out of it, his nose wrinkling up at the sharp flavor. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, but he does know that this is his best option, unless he wants to turn back to the cocktail of drugs that Peter had him on. 

 

     He’s crying like a little bitch again. Within what seems like ten minutes, he has the bottle completely empty. Within what seems like an hour, the entire apartment is spinning. He doesn’t know what the fuck he even thought he was doing, picking up a bottle of fourteen thousand dollar whiskey. 

 

     He figures that now is as good a time as any to reflect on… All of it. Everything that’s led him up to this point. Meeting Alexander. Disagreeing with him right away. Finding out that he was trans, and then being a total dick about it. 

 

_ Freak.  _

 

_ Faggot. _

 

_ Tranny. _

 

_ Little girl. _

 

     He’s done such awful things, especially considering he’s now dating the person that he victimized every day for almost a full calendar year. Who he made cry and suffer and hurt. He was so awful back then. He still is but in different ways. Alex would be mad at him if he were here now. 

 

     He would be so, so mad. He'd probably yell or cry and he might even resort to hitting, but that would be okay. That would just mean that Thomas is worth correcting. He’s worth punishing because there’s a hope that he can be better. He’s not foolish enough to entertain that idea in any meaningful capacity, though. He’s nothing but a stupid whore that’s misguided in thinking that maybe he could possibly be something more, and that’s what he’ll always be.

 

     Thomas remembers when he first told Alex about everything that Peter used to do to him. He remembers the look on Alex’s face, especially. A mix of sadness, anger, disappointment, and especially pity. Maybe that’s what this is all about. Maybe the only reason that Alexander is with him is because of some sort of pity. The poor little rich boy with the bad home life and just wanted somebody to really love him. Yeah, that sounds about right. That’s all he is, after all, and that’s all that he’ll ever be. He’s nothing, especially in comparison to Alex. 

 

      He groans softly and rolls over, burying his face in the throw pillow. He isn’t a fan of this new apartment at all. It’s big, far too big for two adults and two babies. Their last had been cozy and always warm if a little lacking in natural lighting. This one has too many windows, it’s almost drafty, and it’s too high up. He doesn’t want to be able to see the entire skyline. He would be happy with having their little two bedroom loft back. It wasn’t much, but it was  _ nice. _ This is far, far too much, and it’s not nice at  _ all. _

  
     He’s so unbelievably stupid. He’s doing something that he  _ knows _ Alex would be mad at him for, and yet, he’s doing it anyway. It doesn’t get much dumber than that. He can’t really bring himself to care, though, and goes to the box he’d ordered off the internet and pulls another bottle of whiskey out of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. 
> 
> If you got through that, thank you. It was a bitch to write, and probably a bitch to read. Please, though, comment if you feel like it. 
> 
> Also! I wrote another draft of this chapter before deciding that it was too dark. (I know, I know. It really was, especially compared to the final draft). If anyone wants to read that, and enough people are interested, I'll either post it in the one-shot fic for this series, I'll post it standalone, or I'll put it on my tumblr.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys need to communicate a little better.

     “Baby, hey!” Thomas got up from the couch suddenly when he heard Alex enter through the front door. He felt more than a little woozy from a mix of whatever he got from Peggy and all the booze, but he could manage. He’d been taking more and more, drinking more and more. He was just glad that he had money, or he would be up shit’s creek without a paddle, based on how much he had to take and drink to get even a slight buzz. He was addicted, but he didn’t have a problem. The twins were sleeping soundly in their crib, and he didn’t feel like he needed to worry about them much. They ate, they shat, and they slept. It wasn’t hard. 

 

     Alexander grinned and made his way over to him, but frowned when he got close. “T, are you  _ drunk _ ? I can smell the liver failure coming off of you.” He asked with one eyebrow raised. “Oh my God. You’re fucking wasted right now. Baby boy, it’s two in the afternoon. The  _ girls _ are here. I put you in charge of watching the girls today and you felt like it was a good time to get shitfaced. Don’t you know what responsibility is?” 

 

     Thomas narrowed his eyes, a little bit confused. “Wh- What? I only had like one drink, relax. An’, like, I got this shit? And it’s really fucking good. I just feel like I’m happy again, y’know? ‘Cause I’ve been feeling really, really empty lately.” He shrugged, wrapping his arms around his husband. He was so warm and he smelled so nice… He was so, so perfect. 

 

     “You’re high, too? Holy fuck. You were alone. With our children. You were supposed to be  _ watching  _ them, not getting high and watching- What the fuck even is this?” Alex pulled away and turned to the television, making wild hand gestures. “Why in the fuck are you watching the Golden Girls while you’re high as balls and  _ watching our children _ ?!” Alex was shouting, and Thomas winced back. 

 

     “I didn’t- I just-” He mumbled, biting his lip and whining softly. The entire room was spinning and he was fairly certain that he was going to pass out or vomit. Maybe both, actually. He was so fucking stupid. Alex was going to divorce him and he’d never see the girls again and John and Mary would probably disown him because he was such a stupid piece of shit.

 

_ You’re a very, very stupid little boy. You should just shut your mouth and let Alex take you now. It’s the only thing that you’re good for. It’s the only thing that you could ever be good for. You’re not even pretty, just a couple warm holes to fuck into and a worthless little dick to fuck someone with if they want you to. You’re not worth this, you’re not worth any of this. You’re not even worth hurting, because you’re so goddamn stubborn that nothing could ever make you change, not really- _

 

     A voice that sounds distinctly like Peter’s was in his ears, in his head, drowning out anything and everything else. Alex looked concerned, and he was coming closer. He moved his hand up and Thomas cowered back, his arms cradling his head to protect it. 

 

     “Please.” He whispered, blinking back tears. “Please. Just stop it. Please stop.” He couldn’t get rid of the voice. Papa was there, in the room with him, all around him and talking to him - he was going to take him back and let people touch him and he was going to hurt him because he’s broken so, so many rules. 

 

_ Crying is for girls. Girls and faggots. You’re not like that, are you, Tommy? You should have married Martha, she’s such a nice girl. She comes from a good family, too. You could have been normal, Tommy, instead you had to run off with that fucking freak. Even James Madison would have been better for you than  _ her _. At least his family isn’t riddled with whores and abandonment. Her father left, her mother died. She had no structure growing up, and it makes sense why she would grow up to be a freak like this.  _

 

     “Stop it, stop it. Please, just fucking-” Thomas wheezed, tangling his hands in his hair and tugging. “Stop it!” He started screaming and sobbing suddenly, and then the girls followed him. Alex didn’t need another kid, he needed a husband. A husband who could be there and give him everything that he needed, including sex and love and physical affection beyond just cuddling. 

 

     “Baby, baby… What do I need to stop? I need you to listen to me, I need you to help me help you. Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart. Please.” Alexander murmured, kneeling next to Thomas and biting his lip. “Are you- Are you hearing  _ him _ again?” 

 

     Thomas nodded, just a little bit, and Alex sighed. The shorter man wrapped him in his arms and sort of rocked him, despite their drastic size difference. “I love you so much, TJ. Have you ever thought about… Have you ever thought about going to a mental institution? Or rehab or some kind of million-dollar ski retreat or  _ something _ ?” 

 

     Thomas was hyperventilating again and shaking his head wildly. Papa had told him that he would throw him in a place like that if he ever told anybody. Said that if he wanted to act like he was crazy, Papa would treat him like he was crazy. “Please don’t make me go away.” He managed to say in between soft whimpers, sounding like he was some kind of a little boy. “I don’t want to have to go away.” He hid his face in Alex’s chest and inhaled the scent of his cologne and body wash. Musky, with a hint of vanilla and a little bit of lemon. He smelled like home. 

 

     “Shh, I won’t send you away, I promise. Not if you don’t want to go. But maybe we should talk about it more, because it-  _ rehab _ \- might help you. I know that you’ve been drinking all the time, I just didn’t know that it was this bad.” Alexander murmured, pressing soft kisses to the top of his husband’s head. 

 

     Thomas took a shaky breath and nodded slightly, biting his lip. He would be okay. He could be okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I have no excuse for how long this took, but I'm hoping to get more of a regular update schedule going.
> 
> Please comment. I'm a slut for comments.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's finally some communication.

     The silence and tension that occupied the apartment for the weeks following the… incident in the living room was absolutely deafening. Thomas did his chores, went to classes at night, and played with the girls, who were rapidly approaching their first birthday. Alex went to his classes, went out with friends, and kept sleeping with Laurens. They got more and more sloppy about hiding their affair, and it was eating Thomas up on the inside. 

 

     He didn’t know what it was. Well, he half did. Alex had a really high sex drive and he wasn’t getting anything from Thomas, so it was only natural for him to look elsewhere. He just didn’t know why Alex wouldn’t have talked to him about it, though. It wasn’t the act of him cheating, it was the fact he wouldn’t even admit it. He’d seen them in the act, more than once, and he just wished that his husband would  _ tell him. _

 

     “What are we doing for the twins’ birthday?” Alex asked, sitting down next to Thomas on the couch. The taller man shrugged, staring at the television.

 

     “I don’t really know. They’re turning one and they won’t remember this. They don’t even have friends. It would just be a party for us and our friends, and I just don’t see the point of having a big party.” He bit his lip, stealing a glance over to Alexander.

 

     “But I want to have a party.” Alex frowned, taking a sip of the soda he’d pulled out of the fridge. “I want them to have presents and cake and too-loud music and really fucking cheesy themes.” 

 

     Thomas bit his lip, but didn’t protest. “Okay.” There wasn’t any reason for him to protest. It wouldn’t do him any good, anyway. When Alex made his mind up about something, no one could change it. “I’ll start planning, I guess.” He curled up a little more on himself, sighing softly. He just really, really didn’t want to make Alexander mad at him.

 

    “Good boy.” Alex said, like it was nothing. Thomas’s breath hitched in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut. Alexander’s demeanor hadn’t even changed, he just kept staring forward. 

 

    “I need to go- I need to use the bathroom.” Thomas mumbled quietly, getting up and half-running into their bedroom. This wasn’t what he  _ wanted _ . He wanted a life, he wanted a career, and he didn’t want to have to do this - Hide himself and never actually talk about his problems or his feelings. He had half a mind to move back in with his parents most days. He just wasn’t sure which parents he wanted so desperately. 

 

    He found himself popping a tablet into his mouth without consciously making the decision. It was the only thing that could stop  _ this _ most days, the only thing that could still his hands and dry his cheeks. He pulled off his shirt and crawled into his side of the bed, wishing that he had the Alexander Hamilton that he married, the one that he loved, back. He missed that Alex, the one that wouldn’t have left him alone all the time and the one that actually cared enough not to say shtit like that, especially not without thinking. That Alex would have known that he was clearly upset, that he needed to be helped. 

 

      ---

 

      Thomas didn’t feel much better for a really, really long time. Things went on like that, after the girls’ birthday, after Christmas, and up until a few weeks after Alexander’s birthday. They were in the kitchen, being completely silent. Rachel and Hope were with the Washingtons, raising hell, and they finally had a day without class or kids. There was no better day to start a massive argument.

 

     “I know what you’ve been doing with Laurens.” Thomas said softly, after weeks and weeks of building up his courage to say it. “I know, and I’ve known since it started, and it’s okay. I’m not mad or anything, and I don’t want a divorce, but… I just wish that you would have told me in the first place. I really do love you, Alexander, and I just want you to be happy. If sleeping with Laurens makes you happy, then you can keep doing it.” He kept his voice as even as he possibly could, even though he wanted to break down sobbing more than anything else in the world.

 

     “I’ll break it off anyway. I didn’t want to hurt you. Hurting you is my absolute worst nightmare.” Alex closed his eyes, apparently totally unaware that he had been doing just that for months on end. He didn’t know how trapped Thomas had felt, or how absolutely miserable he had been since Alex started classes. “I just needed- I needed something physical. I needed sex from somebody, anybody. You know how much T fucks with my sex drive and I just need it all the time. I know that’s not an excuse, and I know that you should be absolutely repulsed by me.” 

 

     Thomas bit his lip and hummed, thinking for a second. “Since you’re not going to fuck with Laurens anymore, then I’m going to try out rehab or something. If you’re going to change for me, then I’m willing to change for you.” He said quietly, forcing himself to smile. Rehab couldn’t be the worst thing, and he didn’t have much to lose. Drinking, the pills- It didn’t do much of anything for him anymore. It just kept the withdrawals at bay. “And I- Could you try staying at home with the girls sometimes? Just evenings, ‘cause I know that you have to go to classes, but- I really want to go out on occasion and maybe even get, like, a hobby or two? After I’m done with rehab and shit.”

  
     “That sounds really good, and I didn’t know that you were so uncomfortable being at home all the time. I just want you to know that I’m always going to be here for you and you can tell me absolutely everything. Of course I’ll stay home with the girls while you go out and have fun sometimes. Trust me, if anyone’s earned the right to a dinner with a friend, it’s you.” Alex grinned and leaned across the island, pressing a soft kiss on Thomas’s cheek. He smiled, for real this time, and his heart fluttered. Things were finally,  _ finally _ looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment.
> 
> Also, I'm hoping to get on more of a... consistent update schedule. I don't want to leave you hanging for a week and a half anymore.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back, back.

     Detoxing was hell. If it wasn’t for the fact he actually  _ couldn’t _ , he would have stopped it all and just picked up the bottle again. It suddenly made sense to him why he’d never gone cold turkey before - it was like going to hell and back. He knew, in the rational part of his brain, that this was normal for an addict going through rehab and that he shouldn't give up. But that ugly part of him, the one that made him want to drink in the first place, wouldn't quite let go of the idea that he needed to check himself out, find a bar, and forget this idea entirely.

 

     Thomas rolled onto his back, opening his eyes with a groan. The lights were far, far too bright. He pulled his blanket tighter around himself, shivering. He wasn’t even all that cold, and his forehead was damp with sweat. His liver fucking hurt, his head hurt, his  _ hair _ hurt. Actually, everything hurt. His entire fucking soul hurt. It had been like this for almost a full week. For the first three days he was here, it wasn't so bad. He supposed that his blood alcohol content was so high it kept him sustained for a little while, but after it had run out… He got very, very miserable very, very quickly.

 

     “Wakey, wakey, sunshine.” Caleb, Thomas’s roommate, was standing over his bed with a small smirk. He wasn’t here for anything hard, just liquor and pills. Sort of like Thomas, actually. Caleb was short, stocky, bearded, and had an accent that Thomas couldn't quite place. Maybe Scottish or Irish. Or maybe he was just Canadian. He'd never really been good with voices.

 

     “Not in the mood, Brewster.” Thomas grumbled, curling in on himself. He only had a few more weeks of this. Only a few more weeks, then he could go home to his daughters and his parents and his husband and he could be happy because he wouldn’t have to drink all the fucking time any more. “Why do we always have to get up so fucking early? This doesn’t make me want to get better. It makes me want to fucking drink.”

 

     “Come on, we have to go to group. Don’t ask me why it's so early. That's just the way that shit is.” Caleb shook his shoulder until Thomas got up with a groan. There was no use fighting it. Group was mandatory. If he didn't go he would get a long lecture from some therapist about how he needed to want to get better if he was going to make any progress. About how he needed to stay motivated. 

 

     ---

 

     Thomas shared for the first time that day. He didn't know what made him want to do it. Maybe he was finally going totally nuts. He was vaguely surprised when he found his hand raised. 

 

     “Hi. I'm Thomas, and I'm addicted to alcohol, MDMA, rohypnol, Adderall, and opioids.”

 

     “So, I'm here because I was self-medicating. My mom molested me, my dad whored me out, and they were abusive as shit in general. They were the ones that started me on the pills and liquor. And then I found out that- It doesn't matter what I found out, but I got back on all my shit and it was just- I was doing fine for a little while, only drinking in moderation, but then my dad got shot in front of me and everything just hit me in the face all the sudden. It took me forever to work up to checking myself in here. My husband was the one that convinced me. Said that he couldn’t stand to see me hurting myself anymore.” He was almost sobbing by the end of it, and the entire room had fallen totally silent.

 

     “But. Here I am. I want to get better. I um- I have two daughters, Rachel and Hope. I want to be better for them, so they don't have to see their Dad the way that I was ever again.” Thomas managed to smile softly, closing his eyes and thinking of his family. God, he missed them. Alex made an effort to visit once a week, but he couldn't bring the girls and it wasn't quite enough.

 

     There were always dogs in group. A corgi named Humbert had taken quite a liking to him, and usually sat right at his feet. He reached down and stroked his head absent-mindedly, blinking back his tears. The rest of the session went unbearably slow. 

 

     Lunch was fine. Art and music therapy was fine. Dinner was fine. The entire building was just fucking fine. The walls were a boring shade of periwinkle, the floors were light hardwood with really hideous rugs covering them, and it was all just so boring. The bathrooms were the worst of all. Painted some baby-shit green color with walls that were covered in signs with inspirational messages. It'll get better! You're so strong! It was a bunch of bullshit and Thomas knew that just as well as anyone else. 

 

     That was almost the worst part. How patronizing it all was. Therapists, doctors, nurses- they all treated him like he was a four year old that wasn't especially bright. He'd had enough of that in his life, and it just pissed him off. It made him want to recover even more, actually, so he wouldn't have to tolerate all of their bullshit for any longer. 

 

     He looked over his portrait of Alex with a small frown. It was all wrong. He hadn't managed to capture Alex's subtle smirk, or the exhaustion that was almost always present in his eyes, or how soft to the touch his hair was. It was a mess and he wasn't good enough for Alex. Not even close. The acrylic was relatively cheap, but he still should have done better. He set the canvas aside and sighed, resting his head in his hands.

 

     God, he was stupid. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE leave me comments. Also, I'm sorry for how long it took me to get this out!


End file.
